Never Forget
by GoddessofSnark
Summary: People Never Forget my dear..." seven years after the final battle the wizarding world is forced to either hide or adapt as muggles. How does Hermione react when she runs into someone she once thought she knew? HGSS
1. A Cold London Night

Authors Notes: This is part one of a multi-part fic. It's set 7 years after the end of the books, when after the final battle, the muggles got wind of the wizarding world and now prosecute whatever witches and wizards they find, forcing the wizarding world to either become muggles, or go into hiding. What happens when Hermione runs into someone that she thought that she once knew? HG/SS  
  
START  
  
Deep black eyes peered out from behind a glass of something or another-she couldn't quite tell what it was. The eyes seemed familiar and mysterious all at once. They were aged eyes, wizened eyes, eyes that proved that one really could see and experience too much for one lifetime. They were a deep mahogany, almost black, and them seemed to be windows to a soul just as dark from its scars. They were the eyes of someone much older than the man was.  
  
He didn't look young, but his frame suggested that he was not quite as old as the rest of him made him out to be. He was a slender man, with long black hair, pulled back in a lose plait that reached just past his shoulders. His face was lined and creased, and his body had the stoop and slump of one who had been through more than any human should. But all the same, he was slender, bordering on athletic, although she couldn't see much through the stiff black clothes that he wore.  
  
It didn't take much regarding of the figure before her for her to place why those eyes, and the person before her, looked familiar. It shocked her to see him again, she never thought she would. She had assumed that he, like so many others, had retreated back into his own world, a world of safety, where he was the only one. So many had reclused themselves, hardly ever going out, for fear of being caught, for fear of being seen.  
  
Some, like she had adapted, left the old ways behind. They had fused seamlessly into a new life, forgotten about everything that had happened seven years previously, and all that had happened before that one fateful day. They had gotten new jobs, new houses, new clothes, new identities, never letting there past life haunt them, or trying not to. Not all were successful in stopping any thoughts of their old life, some still found themselves tempted to take a shortcut here, make something perfect there.  
  
And yet others had formed a small resistance group, a group of radical rebels who refused to go into hiding, and refused to give up their traditions. And every other one of them lived in fear that they would be outed, be strung up as an example of what happened. For years they had lived in peace, calmly coinciding with the rest of society, but seven years prior, everything had changed, no longer could they coincide, not after the carnage wrecked by the final battle.  
  
And she could see every trace of it in the man's eyes across from her. He looked up from his drink and their eyes met for an instant, and in that second, everything that had happened before the Giro Finale, transferred between them. With the same swift movement he always seemed to have, he crossed the smoky room to sit across from her at the small table. She nodded her acknowledgement at his sitting there, as they regarded each other for a long moment.  
  
"Professor." She finally said, breaking the tense silence that had seemed to fall upon them. His cold eyes met hers again, and she felt a jolt of- something. Raw power that had lain dormant for seven years itching to be released.  
  
"Miss Granger." She was surprised that he remembered her, after so long. Her surprise must have shown on her face, for he let a small smirk cross his face. "There are very few students who I forget, try as I might in most cases." She allowed herself to smile at his comment.  
  
"How have you been?" She asked. It was just a polite comment to initiate conversation, and they both knew it. They both knew what they wanted to talk about, although they would never talk of it public.  
  
"I've been. I suppose that's enough." Although he didn't voice it, the inquiring look on his face begged her to answer the question as well.  
  
"Haven't we all though? Life goes on though, I suppose." He nodded and lifted his glass.  
  
"That's something to drink to." He said, and drained the rest of the dregs out of his glass, as she did the same.  
  
"Agreed. How about taking this conversation to someplace a little more private?" They both knew the reason why, although he couldn't help making a snarky comment about the ways such a simple phrase could be interpreted.  
  
"Now now Miss Granger, isn't that rushing things a bit? Why we've essentially only just met." Try as she might, she found it hard to fight back a smile. She left a few pounds on the table to pay for her drink, and he did the same, as they walked out of the small pub on the corner, and walked down the dirty alleys of London.  
  
"How long has it been now Professor, seven years? Seven years, and people still don't forget."  
  
"People never forget my dear, they have an uncanny ability to remember every last detail of everything." She nodded in agreement. The voice still had the same silky quality, but it seemed to have lost its biting edge.  
  
"I assumed you had gone into hiding." She said, and he stopped for a moment, and looked first at her, and then up at the sky, and kept his gaze on the stars as he spoke.  
  
"I had. But then I realized that you can't go on living in fear."  
  
"So instead you adapted?"  
  
"People change. All animals have the ability to adapt to their surroundings. That's not to say that I like it, or that I've ever fully changed." She looked at him as the words hit her.  
  
"So you're one of them?" they found themselves at the end of the alley, looking out over the Thames. For a long moment, he watched the moonlight glisten off the murky waters below him before he turned to her. They both knew who "them" were.  
  
"If you wish to call me that." He said, with a degree of nonchalance. "I've lived my entire life walking a fine line. Why stop now?" He said, and she shivered, both from the power of his words, and from the cold fall night. "It's late, I should go." He said, as he turned to glide off the same way he always was able to.  
  
"Professor-"she started, and he turned back to look at her, "Maybe we can run into each other again sometime."  
  
"I'm sure we will." He stated simply, and with what would have been a swish of his robes, had he be wearing them, he faded into the dark London night, leaving her standing looking out into the water searching for answers to the questions that had suddenly crept into her mind.  
  
END OF CHAPTER ONE   
  
A/N Giro Finale is Italian for Final Revolution (well, according to Babel fish at least.) 


	2. Late Night Musings

A/N so this place doesn't seem to want to put in breaks in my fics (any sort of them, except for text, and BREAK looks kinda ugly halfway through a fic) so they'll be a couple of short chapters that would be combined if wasn't so evil. Anyway, thanks to my reviewers so far, you guys rock!  
  
START  
  
He sighed and pinched his nose as he sat down on the edge of the bed, before slowly letting himself sink down into the luxurious emerald green satin sheets, and stared up at the ceiling as he rehashed the events of the night. So much had happened, so many things had changed, was all of this really worth it? Was he willing to risk the façade that he had built up, the dual life that he had managed to balance on a fine thread because of her?  
  
She could do so much for their cause. But was she willing to join them? He didn't know. He'd spent so long trying to find her, trying to see if she would be willing to join him, she was so powerful, how could she give it all up. But then again, she was raised as one of them, she was one of them. But at the same time, she was on his side, he knew her thirst for knowledge, he had seen it in the seven years that she was his pupil, an insatiable desire to learn all there was to know about everything around her. So very much like him.  
  
It was that one fact, the fact that she was so similar to him that had started him on his quest to find her. More and more of their members were being caught, they needed another one like him, who could plan, who could act, who was too good to be caught. He was getting too old to be an active member much longer, his body, already weakened from years living a double life before the _Giro Finale_ couldn't handle living one much longer again.  
  
She was still young, she would be in her mid twenties, he calculated. He was a good two decades older than her, and weakened by all the pressure forced on him throughout the past quarter of a century. He was damned if he'd throw away twenty years of work to become one of the greatest wizards of his age to save himself. No, he'd worked to hard, he'd seen too much, fought too many other battles to give up now.  
  
There was no doubt in his mind that she would keep his dual identity secret. He knew that she was trustworthy enough in that respect, but would she stay so after he but things bluntly, after he told her that they needed her to join the resistance? Was she trustworthy enough not to betray the other members of the resistance, many of whom were ones that she had scorned in her school year, the ones that had spurned her?  
  
He groaned at the thoughts running through his head as he tried to force himself unsuccessfully into a deep slumber. He knew he needed the sleep, that his body was weary, but his mind was keeping him awake, he couldn't get the thought of her out of his head, he couldn't stop thinking about her, and weather or not she would really make a great addition to the group of resistance fighters, trying to preserve their heritage as best they could. Finally after a long hour of trying, his body finally gave in to the beckoning call of sleep.  
  
END OF CHAPTER 2 


	3. Underdogs

She found herself walking back to her flat slowly, as if in a daze. She was in a daze, that's what it was. He had just appeared, seemingly out of nowhere and seamlessly merged himself into her life in just a few short minutes. It almost felt as if he never left. It felt almost as if it was- right-that he was back, as if it signified something. "Stop talking nonsense Hermione" she told herself, it was all part of his mysterious persona.  
  
Was that how he had mastered it during her school years, living a double life? Charming unsuspecting victims into believing they could trust him? In just under an hour, he had wormed his way back into her life and into her thoughts. He was a master at seduction, that much she knew from her years as a student, not just seduction for lust, but he was able to turn you into a human house elf, beating yourself up before you'd say something bad about him.  
  
It was his way of keeping order in class, and she remembered it all too well. The way he could control his silky voice, never speaking louder than a whisper, forcing everyone to pay rapt attention lest they miss something vital. Yes, he was truly a master of seduction, combing his voice with the presence that he had. Even with the pale, almost sallow, somewhat greasy skin, wit the lank, stringy, greasy black hair and the long crooked hooknose, his presence made him seem almost attractive.  
  
And try as she might, she could not erase the tall, dark figure that cut his path across her mind. She wondered what he was doing back...almost as if he was back from the grave. She thought he was gone after the final battle, cloistered away, or even dead. There were many who lay strewn across the field, on both sides, both wizards and muggles alike, when the fighting was finally over. The only one that she had seen fall was Harry. She supposed it was better that way, better that he died in that final battle, he was too well known in the wizarding world, he would have been lynched after the final battle anyway.  
  
Lynched like-she could barely bear to think about it. She had seen it with her own two eyes and forced herself to turn her back on them and walk away. She never thought that she'd see anyone attack the burrow, not the home the constantly chaotic Weaslys. Just after the start of summer, no more than a month after the final battle. The Weaslys were trying as hard as they could to adapt, with Mrs. Weasly's constant optimism guiding the rest of the family, especially Percy, the most sullen of them all, through the tough transition. She never knew what was coming.  
  
No one saw it. The Weasleys were the first. Everyone said that it was just a drunken mob, but that one drunken mob had started a sinister plan. It was a fine summer night, and the family had just retreated back into the house when they never quite made it out. Ron had been the only one to get out of the house as it burned to the ground, and rather than let him go, the mob had strung him up to a tree and left him there. By the time she, or anyone, had gotten there, it was too late to do anything for anyone. All she could do was turn around and walk away before anyone came back and did the same to her, if only for mourning for a friend.  
  
The thought of it still brought tears to her eyes and anger to her chest. She understood what the Vecchio as most of them called themselves were fighting for, they w ere fighting not only against the unjust persecution of their kind, but also to preserve what little prestige they still had. Until now, she had never met a member of their numbers, until now, the organization had always seemed foreign to her, quite like the Death Eaters had, something that existed, that people knew existed, but no one quite knew who was in it, or how to join. But the more she thought about it, both from a wizarding and a muggle point of view, the more...normal it seemed. The less it seemed like an organization to be feared and the more it seemed like the underdogs, the group fighting to save themselves and others like them.  
  
END OF CHAPTER 3  
  
A/N I apologize if this chapter is a little choppy, but I needed some way to introduce Hermione's thoughts on the Vecchio. For those of you who don't speak Italian, it means literally "old." Like as in old ways, old traditions, etc. 


	4. The Bar

The bar was just as smoky as it was the last time. He'd made a habit of frequenting it, in hopes that he would see her again, and the barkeep was starting to recognize him and his usual order. The young bartender removed the glass and carefully poured out the alcohol for the cocktail and served it in a short glass, the way the man that sat before him preferred it. The bartender had found the order to be quite amusing the first time that he had heard it. "One shot each of vodka, rum, gin, peach and cinnamon schnapps, mix it well and pour it in a short glass over a little ice." At least the man was positive of what he wanted. The young bartender had tried the drink though, and couldn't see how the man could possibly drink it, it was incredibly bitter and incredibly strong, but every night the man was in there, and every night the man drank one.  
  
The drink was laid down, and he nodded at the bartender, in recognition of another job well done. It was so hard for him to find a bar that could mix the drink perfectly, and this one had the added bonus of being the one that she most often frequented. It was on the seamier, shadier side of things, but was not all bad. It was mostly the dark smoky atmosphere and the peeling crimson paint that gave it that appearance, but the people seemed to make you think that it wasn't quite as bad as it was. A group of fairly cheery twenty somethings that made him feel somewhat old, but at the same time, like he fit in.  
  
He watched the man up on stage, a young boy singing a tune about pain and suffering. "He's too young to know what pain and suffering really is." He thought to himself, but enjoyed the soft crooning music nonetheless, and glanced back at the door whenever he heard the bells above it jangle to announce a new arrival. Finally, after almost a week of sitting in the bar and waiting all night, she walked in again. She was hard to distinguish, amidst the crowd that all walked in at once, but the dark chestnut hair gave her away.  
  
It was just as unruly as he remembered it to be, although now she had twisted it into some bastardization of a bun in back of her head, very loosely done and held in place with a chopstick, giving her even more of a disorganized, youthful look, not unlike the stereotype he had seen of the absentminded professor. He hypothesized on what she would be doing now, in the muggle world. Probably something akin to the first image he had queued up in his mind, something involving research, that much was a given, her lust for knowledge would not have it any other way, although he was unsure what.  
  
He himself had liquidated most of his wizarding assets before the violence against wizards had reached an unbearable level, and could live comfortably off of that, although he did find himself occupying his time every once in a while frightening a student who found himself failing in maths into doing somewhat better. He still had his penchant for making sure that his students learned something from his lessons, despite their fear for him. "It is always better to be feared and loved, but better to be feared than loved, if one cannot have both." It was a suitable mantra for the type of student that he had found himself working with.  
  
And not many could look past his defenses to love him, so he chose to have people fear him instead. Despite his-soft spot-as he hated to call it for aiding what would be otherwise misguided children mature into adulthood, he had built up a barrier against his emotions and all anyone ever saw was a sheen of evilness, of caustic cynicism and sarcasm. He likened himself to many of the characters that he'd seen on Muggle television, something that he found himself enjoying, one of the things that made the transition slightly less painful.  
  
He was never quite against the muggle world, his mother had been a half- blood, he had always shied away from it as much as possible, except when forced into visiting aunts and cousins, and grandparents, but he looked at it as something that was just there never really of much importance to him. My how the past few years had changed his thinking. There were things he needed to learn, of course. He needed to fight the urge to use magic for every little thing to make life easier, he had to get used to muggle inventions, but all in all, over the years, it had become second nature to him. Just as hiding his nightly activities had come back to him all to well. He never really lost the abilities.  
  
Even now, he all but floated to the small table that she sat at, silent, and unnoticeable except to a trained eye specifically looking for him. He stood across from her for a long moment, and their eyes met, before she gestured at the chair before her. "Professor, please, have a seat." He accepted her invitation, and as he sat, he carefully plotted out what he was going to say, he carefully laid the trap for her in his mind, coming up with the words to form the bait, making sure that she would fall right into it.  
  
END OF CHAPTER 4  
  
A/N, so Sevvie seems a bit evil in here. I have a thing for evil Snape, evil conniving, dastardly Snape...Evil conniving dastardly Snape who winds up falling for...I think you get the hint . I prefer to think of him as a self-preservationist rather than just downright evil. 


	5. Indecent Proposition

He had a glint in his eyes, one that she recognized all to well from her days at school, it was the same look that he had just before he would hand out a detention, or take house points. A glint that was not quite evil, but rather smug, one that showed the sadistic pleasure that he took in seeing others squirm. But she chose to ignore the look, and instead looked pointedly into the Cosmopolitan she was drinking, swirling it ever so slightly with her straw, as she waited for him to reply to her cool, but not unfeeling, greeting. He had thoroughly confused her the last time that they had run into each other, and the way he had been waiting at the bar, made her think that he was precisely waiting for this, to have this conversation. After a long moment of silence, the velvety voice spoke.  
  
"Miss Granger, I trust you have been well since our last encounter." The voice was quiet and silky, and had it not been for the look in his eye, she would have thought it almost sexy. If it had come from the lips of anyone but Severus Snape, hated potions master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, it would have sent shivers down her spine. As it was, she repressed a shudder at the tone.  
  
"Quite well. And yourself?" As eager as she was to find out exactly why he had been waiting for her, there was something about him tonight that made her want to wait. Something almost dark, and her eyes stole to his left forearm, carefully hidden below a the long black cashmere sleeve of the sweater he was wearing. She knew what lay below it, even now, she knew that he had to wear long sleeves even in the heat of summer, to hide the most telltale mark that he wasn't quite as muggle as he tried to be.  
  
"Marvelous." He looked like a hunter, luring his prey into a trap. Eager, waiting to pounce, but at the same time, having the utmost patience. Yes, the feline grace was not the only feline thing about him, he was truly catlike, with the ability to toy with his victims before going in for the kill. She knew what he was trying to do, and she wasn't going to let him do it. She had more common sense then he gave her credit for.  
  
She met his eyes once again, taunting him herself, begging him to speak, and not to all at once. She wanted to know the reason for his nightly rencontre with her, but at the same time, she was afraid of what it would have to deal with. He had confided in her that he was on the other side of things, that he was in with the same group of wizards that had been known to torture muggles in revenge for what the muggles had done to them. She knew that many of the current members of the _Vecchio_ were former death eaters, and she couldn't help but wonder if he ever had truly given up the dark side in him.  
  
Her eyes drifted down, lingering once again on his left forearm before she looked at what else he was wearing. He had on a pair of dark denim trousers, too loose to really be classified as jeans, but too casual to be quite anything else, and a pair of what appeared to be leather boots, but upon closer inspection, she recognized them to be dragon hide. A small smirk crossed her lips, it was like him to show his old life so blatantly, but at the same time, so subtly, that anyone who was not looking wouldn't notice.  
  
"Miss Granger, I trust that you are no doubt wondering what it is that I'm doing here." Her eyes snapped back to his face as she watched him drain the last dregs of something that looked vilely alcoholic, as she her self sipped more of the sweet liquid before her. She nodded slightly, as she felt his cold gaze on her. "Let's just say it involves, my associations, and this bar, as cozy as it may be, is no place to discuss them." She got the point, and looked at him for a long moment, before she drained the rest of her drink in one gulp, feeling the alcohol burn ever so slightly as it went down. She had vague feeling that the alcohol might just help with things.  
  
He got up and waited for her, and tossed a few pounds on the table, enough to pay for both of their drinks, and she looked at him, slightly surprised at the gesture. He showed no sign of emotion at the look on her face, but merely waited for her to retrieve her coat from the chair back and pull it on gently before he let her lead the way out. She eyed him carefully, unused to the show of manners. He always seemed polite enough, but now all of it seemed odd as he opened the door for it. On her way out, she saw Rob, the bartender, give her a strange look, but she merely shrugged it off as being overly paranoid, as he stepped through the door and started to walk down a path, similar to the one that they had taken the last time they talked.  
  
"Miss Granger, there is no subtle way to put this, but I have a proposition for you." He said, with the same silky tone, and she stopped dead in her tracks.  
  
END OF CHAPTER 5.  
  
A/N so I have a thing for evil Snape, even though I already said that. I like him when he's dark, and evil, and brooding, and menacing, and violent, and ready to kill whatever's around him, and torturing whoever gets in his way. ;) to put it bluntly, I like Deatheater Snape. And I can guarantee you, this is as nice as he's gonna get, so if you've got a thing for sappy love struck Snape, I would suggest you stop reading. Again, I'd like to thank my reviewers, y'all are GREAT. Siriusly. (ok, I'll stop with the bad puns) And I just noticed I forgot a disclaimer...I don't own Hermione, or Snape. (Believe me, I'd spend a year in Azkaban, or even longer to have Snape. But I do own the plot, and I'm not making any money off of this. 


	6. The Alleway

He paused and turned on his heel to look back at her, she seemed rather floored by his blunt comment. After long moments of deliberation, it had seemed the best way. For Severus Snape, a man who lacked almost all tact, he realized that maybe it hadn't been after all. "Miss Granger, it's below freezing out here, either keep walking, or freeze yourself." He was right, and they both knew it. Standing was just inviting the chill to seep into her bones, and she quickly started walking, although he slowed his pace somewhat, allowed her to walk at a speed comfortable for her.  
  
He watched her out of the corner of his eye for a long moment before she spoke. "What exactly is this proposition that you have for me Professor?" Her voice had taken on a cold tone, almost to match his. He had to give her credit; she knew how to fight fire with fire.  
  
"You do remember Miss Granger-"  
  
"Hermione." She interrupted him. "Call me Hermione, Miss Granger makes me feel as if I'm still in school." He smirked at the comment.  
  
"Hermione," He stated instead, "You do remember, the group I mentioned I happened to be-aligned-with?" He questioned, and she nodded.  
  
"What do you want with me Snape, get it out." He smirked at her impatience.  
  
"We could use a former Head Girl within our ranks." He said, and he stopped outside of a rather nondescript building.  
  
He stood with his back to the door, and casually leaned against it, feeling the cold wood give slightly. He kept his eyes on her; this wasn't the safest area for anyone, much less a young attractive woman like the one that stood before him. Attractive, where had that word come from? He questioned himself, but at the same time, he let his eyes wander across her body, taking in the changes that had occurred from the last time he had seen her seven years ago.  
  
She looked very similar to his memory of her. Her chestnut hair was still a bushy mess, although it seemed somewhat tamer now, slightly straighter, and not quite as snarled. Then again, she had probably brushed it before she had left her flat. She was still a scrawny thing; she had always been slender, although now she seemed more rounded. Her front teeth were still on the large side, despite the efforts that he had noted over her time in school to shrink them.  
  
She was dressed in a pair of tight grey pants, and a black v-neck sweater that seemed to accentuate what little curves she had. He knew better than to let his eyes linger on the curves, however. The proposition he had made to her, while it was indecent, was not the type of indecent proposition he was going to make if he didn't force his eyes lower. She was wearing a pair of sandals, and somehow managed to make them look good on her in the start of winter. His eyes snapped back to her brown eyes as she spoke.  
  
"I've seen the attics that you and your "ranks" as you chose to call them, use." But yet, he heard it in her voice, the hesitation. She was curious; she wanted to know what could happen. He knew curiosity was her weakness, and he played that card against her. He knew that the other members of the group had a habit of showing their colors as former Deatheaters by torturing innocent muggles, he also knew that the larger group of them just wanted peace with the muggle world, no matter what it took to get that peace. Even if it took violence, even if it took death to get that peace.  
  
"Miss Granger-"he started, purposely ignoring her command earlier to call her by her given name, "Behind me is a door. I'm giving you a choice right now. You can come with me and help to restart the wizarding world, or you can turn and walk away, and forget that I even existed. I can tell you know that beyond this door lies things that I doubt you wish to experience in your life, many things which you had the unfortunate circumstance to have already encountered. I cannot force you through this door, however, I will say that you were one of the more promising students to come out of Hogwarts, and it would be a waste of pure talent to walk away and keep living as a muggle." He paused, contemplating whether or not to drive in the final point, to add in the straw to break the camels back. Noting her ambiguous expression, he chose to add in the final point. "This is your chance to make sure that your friends didn't die in vain. This is your chance to avenge what happened to your friends the Weasleys."  
  
The last sentence was spoken in a hiss, and he watched as she blanched, before she thought over his last statement. Finally, she straightened, and walked towards him, until they were nearly nose-to-nose. "Is this what you want?" He questioned, stepping away from the door. He watched as she opened it and stepped inside, answering her question with her action rather than her words. As he followed her, he just hoped she knew what she was getting herself into.  
  
END OF CHAPTER 6  
  
A/N: So what exactly is Granger getting herself into? You'll find out soon. wink thanks again to my reviewers. If you notice any mistakes, how about offering to be my beta reader? Open offer, more for plot gaps than anything, those are my real weakness. Or just leave the comments in your reviews, I just changed the fact that Snape would be 20 years her senior, and that drinks in London aren't cheap. I also would like to take this moment to apologize for the short chapters, but i do like switching between whose thought's i'm following, and as i said, BREAK looks ugly in a fic. So rather than having a few long chapters, you'll have lots of short chapters. it also means i do one a day rather than one every few days, so works out better for the readers. 


	7. Headquarters

The interior of the building was just as drab as the outside was. There were a few bookcases that were obviously straining beneath the books that were tightly crammed onto their shelves lining the far wall, and a collection of overstuffed chairs facing a blackened, obviously uncleaned fireplace in the middle of the room, one of which held a young man that looked vaguely familiar. It took her a moment to comprehend exactly who it was, and she was slightly shocked to see him.  
  
He still had the same cold grey eyes that she remembered, but the blond hair fell down around his face, framing it, instead of the awful slicked back look he had gone for as a student. The narrow face seemed more rounded by a wiry goatee, and he looked, she shuddered to think of it, good. "Ah, uncle Severus, I see you managed to convince her to join." He drawled, and she knew that this was the same boy that she remembered as being her nemesis in her school days. There was no mistaking his arrogance.  
  
"No need to talk of me as if I'm not in the room Malfoy." She said, and he spun on his heel to look at her.  
  
"Granger," he said appraisingly, as he looked her over. "You haven't changed at all. Just as stupidly courageous as ever. Only now you don't have Potty and the Weasel to back you up." She glared at him, and she felt her arm instinctively pull back to slap him, when she felt a large, rough hand clamp down on her wrist. She spun around to see Snape glaring at her, and it took all of her will power not to use her free hand to slap him. Instead, she glared back at him, and shook herself free.  
  
"Both of you, stop it, and stop it now. I have neither the time nor patience to put up with your schoolyard rivalries. This is war, and in war, fighting amongst yourselves is the easiest way to get us all killed." Snape said, his voice cold and callous, it had lost all of it's silky tone. She watched as both men retreated back to the chairs. She felt a trace of glee at the look on Draco Malfoy's face. Snape looked up at her, and sighed, almost in exasperation. "Miss Granger, are you going to take a seat, or are you going to stand there all night." Whatever glee she felt was gone as she sat down, knowing her look must have matched Malfoy's.  
  
She watched Draco as he reached for the bottle and glass next to him, and poured himself a glass of what looked like brandy. He took a large sip, before he reached into the pocket of his suit and removed a silver cigarette case, he lit one with casual disregard for those around him, and she was slowly soothed by the comforting smell of smoke. It was one of those few smells that made her feel safe, both her parents had smoked, and the traces of it reminded her of her childhood home outside of Manchester, a warm, comforting place.  
  
She eyed him up and down. Her first thought of how he looked was right, he was looking good. He wore a pale grey suit with black pinstripes and lapels, and a matching black tie over an emerald green shirt. She smirked at the obvious display of colors. "Find something amusing Granger?" Malfoy questioned.  
  
"Just that despite the suit, you still manage to show your Slytherin colors." She said, and he looked down at her suit.  
  
"Good thing you never chose to show your Gryffyndor ones, scarlet and gold makes you look like a walking sunset, and not in a pretty way either. At least green and silver look elegant." He said, eyeing her grey and black outfit. He rolled the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger as he did so, before taking a long drag on it, and blew the smoke out of his nose, turning his glance over to Snape. "So, Uncle Severus, just how much does the mudblood know?"  
  
She all but strangled him at this comment. Snape's stern glare at the two of them stopped her. "Draco, perhaps you didn't hear my previous warning. The next time you go so far as to insult Miss Granger into attempting to physically harm you, I won't stop her. Your father, for all the cruelty in the man, was never good at disciplining you, I think you could use a good beating." She heard the faintest trace of humor in his voice. "as a mudblood-"she noted the fact that he used the term freely as well, although she knew better than to pounce on him, "-Miss Granger knows more about muggle culture than you ever will. As such, she is a valuable asset to our ranks. Add to the fact that her powers are on par with yours, and she is a powerful tool."  
  
This time she couldn't stop herself. "Is that all I am Snape? A tool, a puppet? Because if that's all I'll be, I'll leave now. I walked through that door thinking I could do something, thinking I could change something, thinking I could help stop the vicious fighting against us. But if I'm only going to be a tool, to be exploited for what I have, you can bet your ass I'll do nothing to help." She lept from her chair sometime during her tirade, and found herself staring into the cold black eyes of Severus Snape.  
  
"Temper Miss Granger, temper. If you can prove that you aren't all Gryffyndor bravado and unthinking courage, perhaps you can be more than a tool." She stalked back to her chair, and grabbed the silver case from it's spot on the table between her and Draco, and viciously ripped a cigarette from the case and found it sparking to life without her trying, and as she took a long drag on it, smiled as she felt the magic course through her once again.  
  
Even if she was to be but a puppet in the struggle, it would feel good to do what she did best once again. And what she did best was magic.  
  
END OF CHAPTER SEVEN  
  
Alright, this chapter really didn't want to write itself...I had to force it out of me. But it will get better, I guarantee that. Also, it's been a while since I've actually read the cannon, but I don't remember it ever mentioning that Hermione lived in London, although that's what everyone else says. I decided to be different. I was sore tempted to make Hermione a ManU fan just to slap Draco for the gold and red comment. As is I already based her outside of Manchester, although if y'all remind me that she is in fact a Londoner, I'll fix that. 


	8. Teamwork

He watched as she took a long drag on the cigarette that rested in-between her fingers, and watched as she absentmindedly twiddled it with her thumb. It was obvious that she didn't smoke much, if at all. She didn't cough at all, but he could see her fighting hard not to. He noticed the drags were short and the breath that chased the smoke into her lungs was long. And she exhaled slowly, almost savoring the harsh bitter smoke, used of all it's taste. He kept his eyes glued to the shrinking cigarette for a long minute, watching the nicely manicured nails as the went through the motions. She had smoked before, he deduced, although it was obvious she didn't do it often. He smiled slightly, one that showed in his eyes more than his mouth, and turned his gaze once again to the fireplace.  
  
"So Granger, how have you been occupying yourself the past seven years?" He listened halfheartedly to Draco's drawl. He knew that the boy was only looking for a chance to boast and brag at how his family kept their villa, kept everything, even their house elves.  
  
"I've been occupying myself." The tone of her voice, and the look on her face as he turned to see her, proved that they should not press the point further. But Draco Malfoy was having fun, and Severus Snape knew better than to stop him, mostly because Draco would turn on him as well.  
  
"Just how have you been doing that?" She glared at him.  
  
"That's none of your damn business Malfoy." He could see the pain in her eyes. Her years were not spent well, and he could see it. She was gaunt, and her clothes were incredibly small, something that he should have picked up on, but didn't, and as the night wore on, her makeup began to fade and the dark circles under her eyes made their presence known.  
  
"Done something to be ashamed of then Granger? Poor little mudblood couldn't cope." He fought himself to sit back in his chair as the sound of the slap echoed throughout the small room. He watched it all with a careful wary eye, ready to stop them if things got too out of hand, but he knew better than to interfere. It was better that they got all of their hostility out now, that they cleared the air between them, they needed to be able to trust each other. All of their lives depended on it.  
  
They worked as a team, they had to. All of them, every single member of the resistance had to trust each other. He didn't care if they liked each other, as long as they wouldn't be as stupidly Gryffyndor as to risk the other's life because of their hatred. There was a reason why most of the resistance was Slytherin. Not because of their pride in their lineage, although that was very much part of it, but because he knew Slytherins would put their own vendettas aside to work for a greater cause. He had seen it before, two men who hated each other, working in tandem, as partners, working for their cause.  
  
She seemed sated after slapping Draco, and the boy was too stunned to goad her further. An angry red mark stood out visibly against the pale white skin and blond hair. He smirked at the boy's arrogance, and at the fact that the girl had actually bothered to literally slap some sense into him. He felt both pairs of eyes turn to him. "So, Uncle Severus, if you would like, how about filling us in here." The boy's voice was no longer drawling, it was the tone that the boy used around him.  
  
The boy knew better than to show his airs around him. His family was almost as distinguished as that of Malfoy's. He watched as the boy tossed the cigarette butt into the fireplace, and removed another and lit it, although with the aid of his wand. Hermione had done it without a wand. He didn't know if it was due to the pent up magical ability inside of her, her anger, or perhaps just the raw ability to perform wandless magic. It was something few had, and if she was showing signs of it without any real training, he knew that she was going to be a very valuable part of their organization.  
  
He just hoped that she wouldn't show her Gryffyndor side. He wondered time and again why the girl wasn't sorted into Slytherin, it would have done her much better. She could have shown her cunning, without having to put up with being goaded into harebrained schemes by Potter and Weasley. Even Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff would have been more beneficial to her. And every time he wondered why she hadn't been sorted into his house, he felt something that he couldn't quite describe, although he knew that it was guilt.  
  
He felt guilty about an event that had occurred twenty-five years previously. And for those twenty-five years, he constantly wondered how much things could be different right now. He wondered if he would still be in the magnificent stone castle, teaching potions. Or perhaps he would have gotten the Defense Against the Dark Arts position to teach the students something valuable. But years of experience had taught him not to think of the past as an endless sea of what ifs. It would only drag him down.  
  
"Draco, Miss Granger-"he started to speak,  
  
"Hermione." She interrupted. "I told you to call me Hermione." He nodded his acquiescence.  
  
"Draco, Hermione, I suggest you get used to working with one another quickly." He said softly, and after they glared fiercely at each other, and then at him. And he smirked at them, knowing that he could at least trust Draco not to do something rash, although something about Hermione made him want to trust her as well. He quickly erased those thoughts however, experience had taught him not to trust anyone.  
  
END OF CHAPTER 8  
  
A/N...Shini asked when they're going to get together...it's like brewing a potion, you add in all the necessary ingredients slowly, and make sure to blend them well, and you get the end result, but sometimes, the best potions take time. I'm not planning on having them get together and start shagging each other senseless any time soon...well, not with any feelings towards each other at least. 


	9. Your Mission Should You Choose To Accept...

She glared into the cold grey eyes of the boy that sat next to her, before glaring into the infinitely deep black ones of the man that sat in front of her, and gave an involuntary shudder. "Is it cold in here Mis-"he started, but she knew the look on her face was enough to get him to use her given name "Hermione?" He questioned, again with the silky cruel voice that he used so often in his classes, a voice that put some of the deepest fear she'd ever felt into her, and she knew it had a similar effect on many of his students.  
  
"No sir." She replied, And fought hard to keep her cheeks from burning the bright shade of red that she knew that they were.  
  
"I'm sure by now both of you know that the government," The word was said harshly, and she knew better than to wince at the anger that he spat out, "Has seen it fit to incarcerate those of us who happen to have magical abilities." She nodded, and she saw Draco doing the same out of the corner of her eye. "They know who we are, what we stand for, what we eat for breakfast, there isn't a detail of our life that they don't know. All of us, even those of us who've renounced magic and gone on living a muggle life. They can't do anything to us as long as we remain good muggle citizens, but the instant we stray..." He let his sentence trail off, and she gulped, knowing full well what he implied.  
  
A long silence blanketed the room, and she found herself following his gaze over to the fireplace. Next to her, Draco started on his third cigarette of the evening, and she reached over to grab her second one, if only to do something with her hands, and lit it, surprising herself when she lit it again, with a cam temper, without the use of a wand, she just thought about it, and it happened. She could see Snape was pleasantly surprised as well.  
  
She fought hard to keep the smoke down, not letting either man have the pleasure of seeing her choke on it. She felt the effects of it course through her, calming her, and she allowed herself to relax after Draco's last infuriating comment, which had hit her hard and deep. She reflected on what had happened with her life in the past few years. Her life had been a failure, she had nothing. Her parents had welcomed her back, at first, but as laws were passed, she found herself drifting further away from them.  
  
They had never disowned her, or said anything of the sort, but they slowly stopped welcoming her into their lives, they slowly estranged themselves from her. She had never been very close to her parents, and the break had happened so slowly, she barely even noticed, over the past two years, she had neither heard nor seen of them. Her parents always had been busy with things, with their work, and they had never had a strong love for magic, although they had tolerated it. But now, over the past few years, they looked on her as almost a mutant.  
  
And her tries to find a decent job were just as bad. She worked as a waitress in what was, she had to admit, a good restaurant, and she made more than decent pay, but she felt like she should be doing more with her life. _Here's your chance Granger,_ she thought to herself. This was her chance to actually do something with her life, to finally do something where she was useful, and not just in getting some of London's ritziest their meals. And maybe put a bit of what else had happened over the past seven years, the other things that she didn't even want to think about, behind her.  
  
"Miss Granger, if you'd be so kind as to grace us with your mental presence once again." The cold voice dragged her out of her depressing thoughts of how her life was going nowhere. She felt her cheeks burn once again. "As I was saying before you saw it fit to disappear into your own little dreamland, I was telling the both of you that it seems the only way to regain our old lifestyle is to put the fear of Merlin into them if they try to do anything else to us."  
  
The voice was cold, detached. She knew what he meant, although she didn't want to. She knew how he wanted to put fear into the British Parliament. "They have their spies, always watching us." He told them. "I want the two of you to find out whatever you can about these people. Do whatever it takes to get the information out." Draco flicked the cigarette butt in the fire, the same way he had the previous two, his eyes as cold and unfeeling as Snape's she noticed. "I want names, addresses, what they eat for breakfast, everything. They spy on us, we spy on them, it's that simple." He told them, before turning his gaze back to the fire.  
  
Draco chose this opportunity to leave. "Uncle Severus, I'm afraid that it's late, and I must be getting back to the manor." She watched as Snape nodded, and Draco walked out the door. She went to follow him when she heard his voice.  
  
"Miss Granger, stay here a moment." He said, breaking his gaze from the fire, and she found her eyes meeting his, and they had lost all the cold blankness they had held a moment before, now they seemed to be almost compassionate as she sunk back into her chair and awaited what he had to say.  
  
END OF CHAPTER 8  
  
Thanks again to all my reviewers. Sorry if this chapter was a little boring, but I needed a way to introduce the topic of the next chapter, as well as provide a bit of a hint as to why Hermione doesn't want to talk about the past. 


	10. You Are A Soldier

He looked at her, with a softened gaze. He knew what he had to tell her, and yet he didn't want to. It was a moment like this when he wished for Albus' guidance, the old wizard had been so good at talks like this, no matter who it was. He pushed the thought of the old man who had been a second father to him out of his mind, preferring to forget about what had happened to the man that had selflessly martyred himself, he knew better than to show emotion around the ones he was supposed to lead.  
  
He never knew why he had accepted the role, true, this was a cause that he felt strongly for, but he had his doubts about whether he could lead people. The real leader of it, a young charismatic Irish lad had come to him and asked him if he could help them out in England, to organize, to train the witches and wizards who wanted to fight for the cause. He had reluctantly agreed, knowing that his past had put him as the best person for the job, as a former double agent and a teacher, he knew what he needed to teach these people, and he knew how to teach it.  
  
But it was moments like this, this wasn't the first time he'd had to have this conversation with someone, that made him rethink his choice. He was an evil old man, who had done as much harm as good in his life, but he still felt somewhat guilty every time he found himself corrupting another youth, another young witch or wizard who had come into the dingy old room bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to help, ready to prove their worth in the wizarding community. He hated himself when they walked out, dark and sullen, he hated himself when they came back hardened and as cold as he after they did what they had to do, what he trained them to do.  
  
But it was something that needed to be done, plain and simple. He knew that this was for their good, he knew that it was for his own good. He knew that if these young people had wanted to strongly enough, they would have found someone else to train them, or even worse, attempt to go through with things without any training. At least he was helping them save their own lives by training them how to defend themselves. That's all it is, self defense, he convinced himself. Preemptive strikes to stop themselves from getting hurt.  
  
"Miss Granger, I'm sure that you had an idea of what you were getting yourself into when you walked through that door." She nodded, and he looked over her. She was so young, she had a bright future ahead of her, either as a witch or a muggle, but the way that she shied away from Draco's question led him to believe that the past years had not gone smoothly at all for her. A shame, he thought, for someone so bright to not get a chance to really show her talents. Even now, she couldn't really show off all the knowledge that he knew she possessed.  
  
"I saw the look on your face when I told you to do whatever it takes. Sometimes that's the only way to do things." He said, looking almost through her. Of all the people in the world he didn't want to be telling this to, she was at the top of his list. But she had come in to here willing to help, he wasn't going to stop her. He wasn't going to stop someone as bright as her from helping, Merlin knew that she was putting her talents to more use here than she ever could in the muggle world. "I thought I had seen the end of violence after Voldemort's fall. As much as I don't like it, they've left us no choice. If you don't think that you can handle that, I won't hold it against you, and you can leave."  
  
He saw the stubborn anger flare in her eyes. He knew that she always wanted to help, and wouldn't let anyone tell her that she couldn't. "I don't care what it takes." She said, her voice cold and collected. He nodded at her.  
  
"Miss Granger, I appreciate your eagerness. Just remember, this is an underground organization, waging a war. As you undoubtedly know, wars are never pleasant things. You will have to put your feelings aside, you are a soldier now. If you still think that this is the path you should choose after sleeping on this decision, I'll see you here again tomorrow night. If after you think about it, don't think you can stomach the things you will have to do, some of which are things that the Deatheaters could barely stomach, you choose not to come back, I will hold nothing against you."  
  
He kept his voice in check for the entire speech. He knew she would be coming back, but he wanted to make it perfectly clear to her that it was not a pleasant thing that they were doing. He wanted to make it perfectly clear to her that she would have to kill, that there would be blood on her hands that she would become as cold and as heartless as he was, as Draco was becoming. He didn't want to have to see her small fragile form crouched over a toilet after the first time she was forced to kill, he didn't want to see or hear her wrecked by nightmares on those nights he knew she would find herself asleep here in this old building. He didn't want her to become like him.  
  
"Miss Granger, if I see you tomorrow, farewell until then. If I don't, have a prosperous life." He said with his voice emotionless, as he turned back to staring into the fire, listening as she got up out of the chair to leave.  
  
END OF CHAPTER 9  
  
A/N I always thought that Sev had a guilty conscious. I think it's why he wanted to teach DADA, he could show that dark magic is bad, and how it turns people into shells, not unlike himself. I'm trying hard to keep him in character throughout, although points like this make it difficult. If I stray, please tell me, and I'll work hard to bring him back. 


	11. Two Words, Six Syllables

She rose from her chair swiftly, and looked at the green and silver club chair, and the black plait that draped itself over the back of it. She smiled to herself, as she spoke. "Goodnight-Severus." She said, trying the name on her lips, and before she could gage his reaction, she was out the door and into the cold London night. She looked around, trying to figure out exactly where in the large city she was. She knew that she wasn't exactly in a nice part of town, and she looked around. She knew that they weren't that far from her flat, and she headed in the direction that she thought her house was.  
  
She walked hurriedly, eager to be out of and away from the dark dirty alleyways that she knew held part of the city's more unpleasant population. She was absorbed in her thoughts as she walked, thinking about the conversation that they had just had, and what had possessed her to call him by his first name. She had requested that he use her first name if only because she felt like a trembling first year, afraid of the big bad greasy git of their potions professor when he called her "Miss Granger."  
  
But why did she do the same for him? Somewhere over the course of the night, he had changed from "Snape" to "Severus" and she wanted to know just where. Somewhere over the course of the night he had evolved from the evil potions master to be feared and hated to a man, a human, someone who had been pushed to the limit too many times, and finally didn't care what happened to him anymore. He was a man that had out rightly admitted to her that he didn't like to kill, but that he saw it as their only option.  
  
And she knew it was, she knew that the muggle government was slowly but surely stopping the wizarding world from even really existing. And not just in the British Isles, but throughout the world. What had started as an English problem had slowly but surely spread. First to continental Europe, where wizards found themselves under close watch when not in their schools, and as such, many of the wizards on the continent had made Beauxbatons and Durmstrang their permanent residences.  
  
She was unsure just how far this idea had spread, and she wasn't sure that she wanted to know, but she knew that if their cause didn't do something soon there would be no wizarding community left. Their cause, she mused. She was part of it now, she had walked through those doors and not looked back, and she knew that she had made the right choice. He had given her a way out, he told her that he wouldn't think any less of her if she chose to leave, if she didn't want to subject herself to the horrors that she would undoubtedly face.  
  
She had seen plenty of horrors during the war. She had seen one of her best friends stricken down by the Dark Lord, at the same moment that he had defeated one of the evilest, most vile men to walk the planet. She had seen her other best friend lynched. She had seen one of her greatest idols make a martyr of himself, to give Harry that final edge in which to defeat Voldemort. But not once had she participated in the bloodshed.  
  
Of course, she had dueled, she had gotten off more than one well placed curse or hex, but never once did she have to mutter the six syllables that every wizard feared. Two words, six syllables, something that she hoped she never would have to say ever. She thought about the words, and found them to roll easily off of her tongue, much more easily than she had ever though possible. She felt the raw magic flow through her, pent up from years of negligence.  
  
In her giddy happiness about discovering just how much magical potential she had, and her retreat into her own mind, even as heightened as her senses were, being in such a shady area, she failed to notice the young man in the shadows, in a dark black suit, a small pad of paper in hand.  
  
END OF CHAPTER 10  
  
Well here's another chappy. Killed two birds this one did. Introduced the mysterious figure in the shadows, and Hermione realizing that Snape-no wait, it's Severus now- isn't all bad. Big props to Shini who's reviewed all of this so far, and even pointed out my typo in the authors notes of the last chapter, as well as SiriusRulz14 who's been kind enough to review, it means a lot to me that you guys are loving this so far! 


	12. A Cold Empty Bed

He sat staring at the fire for a long minute, before he slowly turned and looked towards the chair she had been sitting in. He walked over and grabbed the bottle of brandy from which Draco had poured himself a drink, and rather than bother with a glass, he took a swig straight from the bottle, feeling the familiar comforting warmth as it burned it's pathway down to his stomach. He felt the warmth spread as he took another couple of gulps, before retreating back to his favorite chair.  
  
He sighed at the thought of the way the girl had said his name. He looked in the fire and pushed the thought of her out of his mind. She was one of his soldiers now, she was another one of the ones fighting for his cause, he couldn't let himself get attached to her. He even distanced himself from the boy who was very nearly his nephew. Technically, they were second cousins, but he and Lucius had always been close, and the boy looked up to him as almost a second father.  
  
No, he had no room for going soft on anyone, even if it was a girl whom he had admired for her unnerving power when she was a student of his. She was probably one of the greatest witches of her age, she learned things quickly, memorizing the textbooks she read almost immediately. No, there were few people that could rival her academic prowess. She was a little bookworm, a know it all, he convinced himself. She was still the same person that she had been almost fourteen years ago.  
  
She was still the know it all Gryffindor that neglected even her friends at times to study. She was still the annoying girl that sat in the front of his classroom, waving her arm madly to answer the question, always unfaltering even after he took off house points for her being a know it all. She still had the same timid streak that she always had, he could see it in her, the way she turned entirely scarlet, she was still afraid to be too vocal to him, although she somehow had mustered the strength to slap Draco into submission.  
  
He got up and leaned backwards slightly, stretching out the tense muscles in his lower back, before quickly extinguishing the fire, and heading up the rather concealed flight of stairs in the corner. He sprawled out on top of the satin sheets, gently draping the silver and green comforter over top of him. The large bed felt empty, and he cursed himself for even asking her to join him, join his team, join the cause. But he knew that they benefited from having a witch as powerful as she with them.  
  
He gave himself a mental shake as he rolled over onto his stomach. He pushed the thoughts of girl far from his mind. This was no time to be thinking about anyone but himself, he was the head of an underground faction. Here he was directing what could very well be a full out coup, here he was leading what could very well become a full out civil war. He had to put himself first, and everyone else second. If he wanted company for the night, he knew that outside the door there were plenty of women who would gladly offer themselves to him for a little bit of money.  
  
He took deep steady breaths, forcing his attention solely on his body's reaction. _In...two...three...four...hold...two...three...four...out...two...three...four...  
rest...two...three...four ._ He felt his life narrow down to those sixteen beats. He felt his heartbeat gradually slow into a soft, steady rhythm which was directing the length of his counts. Slowly but surely his body relaxed under the deep breaths, and he found himself falling deeply into a slumber, his arms wrapped around the pillow, almost the same way they would wrap around a person.  
  
END OF CHAPTER 12  
  
So Snape's realizing he's got feelings, eh? Snapecharmer, hate to say it, but unless you can come up with a good muggle to be the spy, it's going to be a work of my imagination. All the muggles I can think of that JK mentioned don't serve the purpose that I want them to, so I think I'm going to be forced to invent a character. Again, thank you to all my reviewers! The whole breathing thing and the quote "he felt his life narrow to those sixteen beats" is from an amazing fic that I cannot think of the title for right now, but it's one where Snape and Hermione wind up in an alternate reality for a bit...great fic, I highly recommend it! 


	13. Sleepy Time

She found her way back to her flat fairly easily, and quickly ascended the stairs. She saw the lights on as she passed by, and smiled. Her neighbors and landlords who owned the small corner building were still up. They no doubt would try to offer her a cup of tea while trying to set her up yet again with their son Brian. Not that she had anything against the boy, he was certainly charming and good-looking, he just wasn't what she wanted.  
  
Luckily, she managed to slide past the hair salon that occupied the first floor, and make it up the stairs to the third floor where her flat was without running into any of the Allen clan. She didn't want to have to charmingly make her way through polite conversation, tea and toast as they asked her if she found someone to settle down with, and casually mentioned the fact that Brian hadn't been seeing anyone since he had stopped seeing an American girl who'd gone back to her hometown after she and Brian had had a fight.  
  
Right now, she didn't want to think of any ideas for dates. For some odd reason, a tall dark figure kept sweeping through her mind. She kept finding the dark deep, almost omnipotent eyes following her wherever she went, although she knew that he wasn't near her, she still had the strange feeling she was being watched. She shrugged it off, and collapsed onto her bed, letting the royal blue sheets engulf her body.  
  
She looked up at her ceiling, and at the glow in the dark stars that had been left there from it's previous occupants, a family whose young son had occupied the room. The stars were too high, and too stuck to remove easily, and she found the soft greenish yellow light the emanated to be almost comforting, the same way the night light that had burned in the hallway outside her room every night from the time she was born until the time she had gone to Hogwarts, and even still when she found herself home for the holidays, the light still burned.  
  
She knew that she was well beyond the age of needing a nightlight, but still, the faint light calmed her, soothed her, as she thought of what had happened today. It had been like any other day, she had woken up, gone for her early morning stroll before getting dressed and heading for work. It was only after work, when she had gone for a drink, after a day like the one she'd had at work, she'd needed one, when things strayed from the ordinary.  
  
And now, as she lay on her bed, she found herself smiling. She had made the right choice, she knew she had, She knew that some of things that she would have to do wouldn't be pleasant, but she knew that it was for a greater good. She rolled over onto her side, and felt Crookshanks crawl into the bed behind her, the warm lump comfortable against her back. She reached back and scratched the orange fur lazily for a minute before falling asleep.  
  
END OF CHAPTER 13  
  
Ok, so Rickmaniacs and Josh Hartnet fans alike will realize who Hermione's neighbors are (heheheh, do you really think I could avoid any other Rickman references?) But really, Brian's just there to get Hermione to realize where her true feelings lay. And that girl really needs to pay more attention to her surroundings. Snapecharmer, you know, you're right...I never thought of having another Wizard be the spy on Hermione...the way I was thinking was just because there's such persecution against Wizards that it would naturally be a muggle spy following her around...but I will keep your idea in mind! 


	14. Kinks in the Plan

Draco roamed the room, pacing back and forth in front of the ash-blackened fireplace, every now and then returning to the area by his seat to tap off the ash that had accumulated at the end of his cigarette and down a glass of brandy. He watched the boy as he roamed, his cold black eyes following the small lithe form back and forth across the room, gently sipping a glass of his patented drink every now and then, smirking slightly to himself.  
  
"I told you Uncle Severus. I told you that you should have never even thought of letting that mudblood in!" Snape had learned well over the years to distinguish between Draco Malfoy's few moods. He knew at the moment that for all the anger that the boy tried to show, that he was in essence frustrated, and just a little bit afraid. He knew that the boy had every reason to be feeling as he was, he himself was feeling those same things.  
  
He had given the girl an option, a choice, believing her to be trustworthy. It had been a long time since he had made a bad choice, and he inwardly groaned at the knowledge that the girl had, he had thought her trustworthy, but she was a Gryffindor, always going for what was right, and here he was, her most hated professor, and also the boy that she had hated most during her days in school. Two of the people that she hated most in her life were asking her to become one of them.  
  
Two people who were on the side of evil for longer than either of them cared to admit. Finally Draco stopped pacing as the door flew open, and she walked in, obviously more than a little haggard. "Miss Granger, I was beginning to think you had what's that phrase? Oh yes, chickened out." He said, sneering at her, letting out some of the frustration and fear he had been feeling just moments before. She glared at him, although a faint blush had crept into her cheeks, and took the same chair that she was in before.  
  
"Yes, well, some of us have chosen not to sit on our arse for the past seven years and actually do something with their lives." She said, glaring at him, and he smirked. It was obvious that her day had not been a good one, and he chose wisely not to provoke her further than he needed to. He did not want to be on the receiving end of Hermione Granger's anger, and Draco had a look on his face that said that he didn't want to either.  
  
Draco had seen Hermione angry, and he knew better than to cross her. He'd already been on the receiving end of her anger more times than he'd like to have been, and rather than agitate her more, and went across the room to a small wooden cabinet. "Drink Miss Granger?" Draco asked, and she nodded.  
  
"Tequila." He smirked at her request as Draco removed the bottle and poured her a shot glass before setting both glass and bottle on the table next to her. He watched her from behind his own glass as she downed the shot quickly and poured herself another, this one she instead chose to savor. She looked up him, and he let his gaze trail from her to Draco and back.  
  
"I know I mentioned what you are to be doing last night, so I'll save you both from hearing the details again, however, there seems to be a small kink in our plans." He said slowly, quietly, silkily. He'd always been a master over his voice, he'd always been good with speaking slowly and quietly, forcing anyone who was listening to really listen, and not just haphazardly hear what he was saying. He had learned long ago how to capture an audience.  
  
"What happened Uncle Severus?" Draco asked quietly, and he looked solemnly at the boy.  
  
"It seems our contact within the government has been found out." Draco winced, and he felt sympathy for the boy. He knew what was going to happen to their informant, and he knew that it wasn't going to be pleasant, but then again, he thought, these weren't pleasant times. He focused his eyes on the girl before him, who eagerly downed another shot, as if the alcohol could help her come to terms with what she was up against.  
  
He slowly finished his drink, still watching her as she looked questioningly between him and Draco. "Now, this means that the two of you have to find out more than you would before, you have to find out whatever you can, all of us depend on it." He said, turning his gaze inwards to the dregs left in the bottom of his glass, swirling them ever so slightly with a flick of his wrist.  
  
END OF CHAPTER 14  
  
A/N, I know, slow buildup. But I know EXACTLY where this is going, and I'll write the next few chapters over the week, but I'm going on a quick vacay...so don't expect anything for a week. Lake George, here I come. 


	15. Changes

She found herself staring at Severus, watching him as he absentmindedly swirled his drink around, trying to process what he had just said. One of their members had been killed. It was something that Hermione had never thought of before. She had known of the danger, but hearing him talk of it somewhat casually instilled more fear in her than she thought possible. And for a man she had never even met before, his death meant something to her.

His death meant that she hadn't entered into a game. This wasn't the DA up against the falsely sweet and satanic Umbridge, this was life and death. And though she had spent the better part of the previous night meditating on the fact, it had never fully sunken in that people were ready to loose their lives for this. That she could very well lose her own. It had been the same way with Voldemort where it wasn't until she had seen the first causalities that she had finally realized that it was true, horribly and undeniably true.

She looked up when she heard him speak again.

"Luckily he managed to get me a list of names of those who are looking for us, who want nothing more than to remove what they view as a threat to their power," he said, holding up a small sheet of paper.

She caught a glimpse of the paper that had only a list of names with departments scratched next to them. Of course the Ministry wouldn't be stupid enough to have a division devoted to fighting them, they would have spread out their forces so that the general public wouldn't have a clue as to what was happening.

"Also," Snape continued, his gaze focused on her, as she hung on his every word, "he also mentioned that he had some information on his computer. Hopefully those oafs never thought to look there." She was transfixed by his dark ebony eyes, and shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

Being Muggle born, the witch had slipped back into Muggle life quickly and easily after growing up and living without magic during summers home from Hogwarts. Of course she knew enough about computers to get information off of them. She had a feeling both Snape and Malfoy had trouble with Muggle technology and allowed herself a small smile at the thought of Snape sitting at a computer ready to hex it into oblivion.

"What, pray tell, do you find amusing Granger?" This time it was Draco speaking and not Snape. She kept her mouth shut as she searched for a witty retort, but found her chance cut off by Snape.

"As you happen to have more knowledge than either of us in that regard, I am going to supply you with his address and the login information to his computer. I trust you'll be able to dig something up." It was an order, a test and she knew it. She nodded and watched as he drew a wand, different from the one she remembered him having in her school days, and _Accio_'ed a bottle of scotch, pouring a generous measure into the glass that sat next to him. He took a gulp before he removed another folded sheet of paper from his pockets and held it out towards her, making no move to get up. She stood and reached for the paper, reading the address and computer information of the dead agent.

"Is that all Uncle Severus?" Draco asked, fidgeting slightly with obvious boredom. He had heard all he needed to and was ready to leave.

Hermione regarded both men for a long moment, watching Snape as he thought out his reaction. The older man nodded as a hank of hair fell into his face, escaping the tie at the base of his neck. She watched the way his elegant hand brushed it casually out of his face noting his long, slightly gnarled fingers. Giving herself a mental shake, she knew better than to start thinking such things. He was her leader, he had been her professor and she had no right to consider what those fingers could do to her.

Draco got up to leave and she followed, giving one last glance back at the man who had turned his attention to the fire. As the realization that he must live in this small house struck her, she snorted. Snape had always seemed to border on aristocratic, not unlike Malfoy.

Hermione was sure the younger wizard had one of the nicer houses in London all to himself with a butler and maid thrown in for good measure. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that he could possible even have some gorgeous country villa on the coast. But the fact that Snape lived in that building, which also served as headquarters, well, the thought made her laugh.

"Find something amusing mudblood?" Draco drawled and she looked up to realize that he was following her, or rather she had been following him.

"Just I never pictured Snape living in a place like that," she said, gesturing behind her.

"Uncle Severus could sleep anywhere. An acquired skill, one I never got."

She looked at the pale blond boy in amazement. Had he just tried to be civil with her?

"Quit gaping like a fish Granger, it's quite unbecoming. I'm not all bad, you know." He had stopped, as if waiting for her, and as she caught up with him. They resumed their almost leisurely stroll.

"Uncle Severus?" She asked him the question that had been nagging her since she had first heard the young man call him that.

"Not exactly. My father's cousin. Uncle sounds better than second cousin Severus though." He had a trace of a grin on his face as he spoke and she felt the corners of her mouth quirk upwards as well.

"So where exactly do you live?" she queried as they took another turn leading her closer to her house near the dodgy end of High Street.

"Right outside the city. Nice house. I don't understand why Uncle Severus would rather stay in that hovel and call it headquarters than chez Malfoy, but then again I've never pretended to understand Uncle Severus." They had reached the end of High Street much quicker than she had expected, and she walked towards the corner building, fishing her key out of her purse. "I'll see you later, Granger?"

"I'm sure you will, Malfoy," she answered. In her preoccupied state of mind, she didn't notice the man quickly escaping from the shadows near the back entrance of the building that housed her flat. Quickly unlocking the door, she made her way up the stairs as she tried to figure out when exactly Malfoy had changed from the prat she remembered him to be to a civil young man. Hermione found herself walking straight into Brian as she made her way up the stairs. She'd been so lost in her thoughts concerning Draco that she hadn't noticed him.

"Hermione!" he greeted her as he stepped backwards, allowing her to head towards her flat.

"Brain," she acknowledged, switching keys to open the front door of her flat. "How are you?" she asked as she unlocked the door, pushing it slightly open.

"I'm doing fine, yourself?" he replied, a charming smile on his face.

Brian really wasn't that bad, she reflected. He was certainly more approachable than Severus was, at any rate.

"Great," she replied as she felt a flash of fur go tearing past her ankles. "Crookshanks!" Hermione called, turning to chase after the cat. She heard Brian's amused laughter just before she felt his hand on her shoulder.

"It's a cat, and a smart one at that. It'll come back," he said.

She found herself staring into Brian's deep brown eyes. No, not bad at all. She was just leaning up to kiss him when she found herself thrown to the floor as an explosion rocked the building.

END OF CHAPTER 14   
  
A/N...I know,i love cliffies. Extra extra EXTRA special thanks to my beta Betz, who turned this chapter which had been a load of bollocks before into the great chapter you see above you! She's amazing! 


	16. Aftermath

Severus sprawled out comfortably across the luxurious bed and pulled the comforter up to his waist, enjoying the feel of the heavy material against his bare legs. It was one of the few times when he felt safe, curled up in his bed with a nice downy comforter around him. Leaning back against the headboard, he propped himself up on the overstuffed pillows as he lost himself in a novel. If there was one upside to living in the Muggle world it was the books. He had to admit to himself that Muggle literature beat most of the wizarding world's offerings.

He was no sooner ready to turn off the light next to his bed and go to sleep when he heard the incessant pounding on the door below him. Throwing on his black silk bathrobe, he made his way grumbling down to the door and threw it open in full Snape-the-Bastard fashion.

"What the hell-" The original question he was going to ask about what the other person wanted was cut short when he saw who it was. "-happened to you?" he finished instead.

She was a wreck. That was the first thought that came to mind as he looked at her. Swaying a little bit, Hermione reached out for the doorframe. Severus caught her easily as her knees buckled and aided her over to one of the chairs. There was a streak of soot across her cheek and her clothing was ripped and singed. Her hair was sticking out at odd angles and she looked ready to pass out at any moment.

"They blew up my house!" was all she said before letting sheer exhaustion overtake her.

He regarded her unconscious form for a moment before gently lifting her. Hermione was surprisingly light and he effortlessly carried her to one of the rooms in the back, laying her down in his makeshift guestroom. It was nothing more than a mattress spread out on the floor with a small bathroom, nothing more than a toilet and sink, with a cramped closet for a shower attached, but it served its purpose of housing anyone who was there for their cause and had nowhere else to go. Draping a blanket over her, he was just about to turn and head back to his own room next door when he heard her call out to him.

"Don't." The voice was small, weak and the sheer emotion in it seemed to tug at his heartstrings.

Severus turned around at the threshold and studied at her. This powerful witch now looked diminutive and frightened. He knew she had every reason to feel that way; however, comforting the distressed was never his strong point. Holding his position, he waited for more encouragement to stay.

"Stay." Her dark eyes begged him to not leave her alone to a world of nightmares and so he returned to sit on the chair that occupied a corner of the room, pulling it away from the desk so he could face her.

As the Head of Slytherin House, forced to comfort students, much to his displeasure. Even Slytherins, who he swore had coined the phrase "Never let them see you bleed," could be emotional at times. Eventually, he had gotten used to gently placing a soothing hand on a sobbing child's back and telling them that things weren't as bad as they seemed. But Hermione wasn't a child and this time things were as bad as they seemed. This was more than consoling a sullen teenager as they dealt with their significant other breaking up with them, failing an exam, or falling down flat on their face in front of everyone. No, this was comforting _her_ as her life literally crashed down around her.

In the wan light, the former professor saw the tracks of her tears creeping down her cheeks. Her short episode of unconsciousness) had taken the edge off of the pain, but now that she was awake again the enormity of what had happened less than an hour ago hit her,hard. Gently moving off the chair, Severus knelt with slightly less grace than he used to have. He was getting old and starting to show it.

He was eye to eye with her now, staring at her as she sat on the soft mattress, watching as the tears continued to flow down her cheeks.

"Miss Granger, are you alright?" he asked her, his resonous voice unnaturally soft and touching.

"What does it look like?" she spat at him before a faint rose color tinged her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." The look of sheer embaressment on her face was enough to crack the tough façade that he had bult up, and

rather than revert back into his usual caustic professor mode, like he was so tempted to do, he found himself laughing instead. Not a long laugh, but a full hearty laugh none the less.

Hermione looked up at him, surprised at the sound, and let a small smile creep across her face as the tears started to slow.

"What about a nice cup of tea? You look like you need it." He slowly drew back until he was sitting on his haunches and allowed the corners of his mouth to twitch up slightly. She nodded to his offer as he stood up extending his hand to her, which she used to rise much more gracefully than she could have otherwise.

"You wouldn't happen to have anything to eat, would you?" she asked meekly.

"Soup?" he replied, gently leading her from the room ready for another outburst. He had seen people who had survived traumatic events and he knew that she was more volatile than she let on. The young witch nodded her agreement and he led her down to the kitchen area.

END OF CHAPTER 16  
  
I have to thank my amazing beta Betz yet again for how wonderful this chapter came out, she's GREAT...:) Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers as well! 


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